


we must do what we must

by throats



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: F/M, Multi, Other, girl!newt, non-binary!chuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-23 07:54:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/throats/pseuds/throats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>breathe, newt. (girl!newt)</p>
            </blockquote>





	we must do what we must

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is for garance, who asked femme!newt. this is probably not what garance expected. sorry.

Trace the tattoo of your mother’s handwriting on your wrist. Re-apply your lipstick. Remember to breathe. Do not strangle Hermann. Do not listen to Hermann. You are going to want to prove him wrong. Do not follow that train of thought because it will only end with you having to be sedated three days later so that someone can feed you. 

On that note, food is good. Eat it sometimes. Trace the tattoo of your mother’s handwriting while you wait in line for the slightly-shitty, slightly out of date military meals. Smile at the cook who gives you your plate. Do not talk to the Russians because your Russian is terrible and every time you see them, you get it into your head that you can speak Russian - _you cannot speak Russian._ Smile at Chuck and Herc. Sit across from Hermann. Do not engage with Hermann.

Trace the tattoo of your mother’s handwriting once more.

Are you breathing yet, Newt? 

When Chuck asks if you need anything, they’re asking for you to fuck them and you should say no. Do not let Chuck eat you out. They will try to get you to let them, but you know how this ends. You know the dysphoria will mount and you’ll spend the night confused and unsure of how to do this, how to have sex with Chuck because you have things they don’t and they don’t even know how their body is supposed to work. 

(You will say yes and Chuck will smile and kiss you, hard, on the mouth. Chuck kisses like they’re battling a kaiju, like it’s the end of the world and their mouth is on yours, teeth sinking into your lip. 

You will run your hand through their hair and they’ll pull back, ask _are you sure?_ And you will not your head, _yes, yes._ And they will tell you to take off your pants and lie down on the bed, so you will. Chuck will duck into the attached bathroom and they’ll come out in nothing but boxers and lipstick and you take a deep breath because you know exactly where this is going. You don’t ever catch your breath. Read this note again.) 

Breathe, Newt. 

 

You’re going to want to drift with kaiju and no one is going to believe that’s a good idea but then it becomes the _only_ idea so you literally build a goddamn pons system from fucking garbage. (it’s not like it’s hard, two musicians for parents you’ve seen amps held together with paper clips and rubber bands and scotch tape, it’s the same principle, really.) 

And suddenly your body isn’t your own anymore and it’s hard to remember how _small_ you really are, where you are, let alone what the sticky substance running down your chin is (it’s blood, Newt, fucking blood). You remember yourself enough, you can’t find the words but you can see the pictures and the world is ending. 

Breathe, Newt. Trace the tattoo on your wrist. Breathe. 

 

You finally see a kaiju up close in real life and you never want to again. 

 

But you do because that’s your fucking life, also the world is ending. You see a dead kaiju give fucking birth and you see a crime lord get eaten by said baby kaiju. (You’ll never want to talk about that ever, but you will to Hermann one day long after - _he chose the name Chow like C-H-O-W, how can someone be so fucking _stupid_ _?_ )_

Then fucking Hermann shows up and he says he wants to drift with you and suddenly, what the hell he’s trying to shake your hand and if it had been other circumstances, you would have felt bad for the poor bastard but right now you’ve got a world to save. 

The pilots have a word for it, they call it _grounding_ and Newt and Hermann can’t stop touching. The pilots call it grounding because when you’re in the drift the only thing solid is each other and Newt sees the logic in it now. She feels that - it’s like leaning back in a chair so that the first two legs are off the ground, you’re about to fall. It’s like taking an extra step when going down the stairs, the absence of the drift is the fall. 

Touching Hermann is like hitting solid ground again. 

Don’t think about Chuck, who used to cry in your bathroom because they didn’t have the words to express the sorrow of their body. Don’t think about Chuck and Herc who used to break each other’s hearts. Think about Max, the dog they loved because it was the only thing they shared outside of the drift. Trace the tattoo of your mother’s handwriting. Touch Hermann’s shoulder. 

Don’t think about the dead. Don’t think about the look in Mako Mori’s eyes during Pentacost’s services. Don’t think about how they couldn’t bury a body so they buried dog tags. Pentacost’s in the little splotch of grass a block from the Hong Kong Shatterdome and Chuck’s next to his mother, outside of Sydney. Don’t think about the dead. Trace the tattoo on your wrist. Touch Hermann’s hand. 

Think about Hermann and Vanessa’s son and how he calls you Mama. Think about how the three of you manage to magically fit into a bed on the nights when you can’t sleep alone. Think about how goddamn lucky you are. Think about the wide-eyed look your students get when you and Hermann talk about the drift. 

Trace the tattoo of your mother’s handwriting. Take Hermann to your mother’s grave sometime. Tell him about the amps. Go to Hermann’s hometown. Put his son on your shoulders so he can kiss his _Mutter’s_ head and see the mountains. Tell Hermann he’s smarter and than any of the children who gave him hell as a child could have ever dreamed. Kiss him. 

_Breathe, Newt._


End file.
